


in which public indecency in a catalyst for love

by hurricanekid



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, also most of the gang is mentioned but they aren't that significant to plot so i'm not tagging them, and it's reflected in the fic, bucky has lowkey abandonment/love issues but what else is NEW i mean??, it's still fluffy and light thou, lots of love to give here, the restaurant au you didn't know you needed, wuthering heights was my favorite book that i ever read in high school, you pull a fic out a bin and 2 years later this is what you get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:57:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricanekid/pseuds/hurricanekid
Summary: “I can't wait for the one day someone gets arrested for public indecency in here.” Rogers says, and with that remark, suddenly becomes Steve.Bucky scrubs at the counter and hides his smile beneath the brightly colored cloth.





	1. Appetizer

**Author's Note:**

> At the time I wrote (a majority) of this, I was a hostess and inspired (and now I work in retail, and still, but to a lesser extent, am inspired). For some terms you might not know, here’s a neat kitchen ref: http://kitchenette.jezebel.com/heres-what-all-those-nonsensical-restaurant-terms-mean-1641239539

Bucky always shows up to work early. He finds that it's not just about punctuality, but setting a good example for everyone else who works at Howling Commandos – even though everyone always shows up on time. He lights a solitary cigarette, and waits for Rogers to show up so they can start prepping, which is always an hour before the restaurant opens.

He's been working there for a year now, ever since he was fresh out of DuVry with his degree and an itch to get back to Brooklyn, the one place when he was in foster care that ever had some semblance of home. Rogers had put out a flier around town, asking for applications for a sous chef, and Bucky jumped at the chance.

As Bucky sits on the step next to the back entrance, he hears the low rumbling of Roger’s motorcycle, and puts his cigarette out, tossing it in the garbage bin a few feet away.

Rogers pulls up in his bike, turns the engine off, and leans the bike on its kickstand.

“Afternoon, Bucky,” he greets, pulling his helmet off.

“Hey,” Bucky returns.

“Are you ready for tonight? It's gonna be busy.” He pulls out a ring of keys and unlocks the back door, and as they step inside, Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it on the coat rack.

“Of course I'm ready. You make it seem like we haven't worked through major holidays before.”

“We haven't? _Oh, my god_ , what am I going to tell the staff?” Rogers brushes his arm as he moves into the kitchen, and Bucky rolls his eyes, laughs, and follows him into the kitchen.

Valentine’s is a big holiday on account that Howling Commandos is an Italian joint, with a host of delicious, hearty food that is both affordable and snooty at the same time. The only thing confusing about it is the fact that Rogers is 100 percent Irish, and with that, Bucky would've assumed he’d have opened an Irish joint, but for some reason, Italian spoke to the man’s soul when he was thirteen and he never looked back.

They work on prep silently, which is good, because even though he and Rogers are friendly, sometimes talking takes too much effort when Bucky would rather be left to his thoughts. He loves working here, but even after a year, it's hard to reach out to some of his coworkers. It’s not that he isn't comfortable around them, or he doesn't enjoy their presence, but between being a foster kid that got bounced around a hell of a lot, and never having a permanent family that loved him without restraint, makes it hard to make friends.

Bucky still has sturdy bonds with his coworkers: they joke and laugh and smile, but Bucky still feels like he's left out of some inner circle, even after two years.

And Rogers – the man had asked him to call him ‘Steve,' but Bucky wasn't ready for that – with other coworkers it was easier to call them by their first name, but with Rogers, it was easier to separate them by using his last name. Because Bucky likes him, against his better judgement, and because any time Bucky has loved someone, it has always ended with disappointments aplenty.

So sue him, that he’s not used to it, a year later, even though Rogers keeps arguing that they’re coworkers. Bucky still regards him as what his ultimate role is: his boss. So even though Bucky would love to let down some of his defenses like he has with the rest of the crew, it wouldn’t work out. It’s to keep his heart safe.

He's jolted out of his thoughts when Thor and Sam make their way into the kitchen, other chefs who Rogers and Bucky work with, greeting them and making their way to the rack where they keep aprons, and joining Rogers and Bucky in the last of the prep work before they open.

Sam, Thor and Rogers all make friendly banter, but Bucky drowns them out in favor of being in his own head, until the rest of the staff files in from the back – Tony, who hosts; Clint, who busses; Natasha, Peggy and Angie, who serve.

Rogers gathers everyone into the kitchen once they’ve arrived.

“Okay guys, we’re gonna get busy tonight. I know you guys work hard, and are on top of things, but tonight, let’s try to not get ahead of ourselves. Tony – no reservations tonight, no holding tables. Anyone who’s made a reservation in the past few days is fine, but we’re not taking any new ones tonight,” he pauses, and everyone gives an assenting nod.

“Peggy, Angie, Nat – we’re opening at five, if we need to immediately go into sections, just tell Tony and he’ll write it down in the chart. Don’t forget to hold courses, okay? And Tony, before I forget, try to not double or triple seat unless it’s absolutely necessary. Clint, you're gonna be constantly on your feet, but I know you can handle it.”

“Go team,” Tony deadpans, turns and exits the kitchen.

They file out murmuring agreements and mindless chatter. Natasha walks up to Rogers and pats on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine, boss.”

“Somehow, whenever you say that on a busy night, there ends up being chaos.”

Natasha laughs, tossing her sleek ponytail over her shoulder. “We’ll see,” she says, and saunters out of the kitchen.

“As far as the rest of you lugs,” Roger continues, “we’re gonna need to stay on top orders. The servers will do their best, but we have to just get the order, fire it, and then get it out ASAP. All we have to do is get through the night, okay? We've got this.”

Thor smiles at Rogers. “You don’t need to worry about us, we’ll make you proud,” and the proceeds to give him googly eyes. Rogers and the rest of the guys laugh and roll their eyes.

“Great. Now let’s rock this night.”

* * *

 It's a small restaurant, but with the staff that Steve has hired, they all make a scarily efficient team.

Natasha comes back to the kitchen, making a beeline for Bucky and tells him, “I'm setting up sections for tonight. Angie has one, Peggy has two and I have three.”

“What does that have to do with me, Nat, exactly?”

“Tell Rogers for me.” She orders.

“Gotcha. Excited to make tips tonight?”

“Mhm. People will be drunk, which makes for an excellent pairing with generous. How’re you doing? Excited to have any food sent back because it’s less than perfect?” Natasha teases.

“You know it!” Bucky laughs.

She lowers her voice, then, “What’s going on with your feelings about Steve?”

“Nat, I don’t know if I’m ready for them.”

“That’s okay. I know you’ve got a lot of shit from your past that you have to wrangle with. But don’t let it hold you back. You’ve made a lot of great progress with me and with the rest of the staff. I think this is a good next step.”

“When I’m ready.”

“Yes, darling, when you’re ready.” She brings her voice back up to its regular volume. “Don’t fuck up any orders.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky musters a smile.

“Good.” She spins and walks briskly out of the kitchen, calling to Peggy and Angie that sections will start at six o’clock if they’re not immediately slammed.

“Nat set up sections.” Bucky informs Rogers as he brushes past with a tray of homemade sausage.

“And they are?”

“Angie has one, Peggy has two and Nat has three.”

“Okay, that's fine. But can you go and tell Tony that if it gets too busy he can change up the sections a little bit so they don't get overwhelmed.”

“Okay.”

Bucky heads through the swinging doors, rounds past the bathroom and cuts across the floor, until he's at the hosting counter, where Tony’s set up with his tablet.

In his off time, Tony develops technology, then forces it on the restaurant; Steve constantly argues that a pen and paper do just fine for seating, but since he hired Tony and Tony brought in his tablet, he's been slowly but surely bringing the restaurant out of the twentieth century. Bucky knows that Steve’s actually pleased about Tony's work, but on pain of being forced to cook seafood, Bucky will never tell Tony this.

The tablet naturally has the POS system integrated onto it, the restaurant’s one of three phones and a book stashed under in the shelf for when it's slow, along with a basket of rolled silverware, napkins, and menus. He's perched on a tall, backless, swiveling chair as Bucky approaches him.

“What's up, Bucky?”

“Rogers said to tell you that if Nat, Ange or Peggy get too overwhelmed it's okay to change up some of the sections, just be sure to tell them.”

“Sounds good,” Tony responds. Bucky nods and retreats to the kitchen, where he finishes up some pasta and sets it aside for when Steve cooks them in sauces and otherwise adds to them.

Thor’s working on seafood while Sam putters about, putting finishing touches on the rest of his prep, which is anything that the other three haven't covered.

Tony pops into the kitchen a moment later, and hollers over the conversation that: “We’re open now!”

“If you don't hurry up with seating people,” Rogers shoos him away from the kitchen with a friendly wave, “we’ll never have our Valentine's Day rush!”

Tony lazily flips him off and swings through the doors.

A few moments later, Natasha comes to the back with a ticket, and gives it to Bucky.

“We should really put a POS in here so that way the tickets print to you guys.”

“Take it up with Rogers,” Bucky tells her, and takes a look at the ticket before passing it off to Thor. He starts on the meal, and the kitchen is the kind of quiet that Bucky has grown fond of: the sound of food being seared in a pan, the buzzing of the overhead fan, the chopping of vegetables, it all soothes Bucky, and he gets lost in it as Peggy comes back and sticks a ticket onto the rack above the prep station.

“Hope you're ready for that rush, Cap, because people are already flooding in.”

“Time check?” Rogers asks her.

“Six-ten,” she responds, glancing at her watch.

“Go into sections if Nat hasn't put you in them already,” Rogers tells her.

“Aye, aye, Cap.” And Peggy swings out the door just like Tony.

An hour later, the kitchen is getting hopped up on orders when Angie comes careening through the double doors.  
  
"Steve!" She exclaims, and Rogers, who's in the middle of a wild frenzy of saucing dishes, freezes.  
  
"What's wrong?" He questions, and Bucky watches his expression change from the "Calm Kitchen Feeding Frenzy" state he enters into worry, which is never good.  
  
"Tony collapsed! I called Pepper, Natasha called 911, and Peggy is doing CPR... I just - I’m panicking."  
  
"Holy shit! Okay, um... I'm glad you let me know... Thor, Sam, keep working on the food. Bucky, take over for me. If Pepper gets here first she'll ride in the ambulance with him but if not, then I will." Rogers shrugs off his apron and pulls on his coat. "Angie, call Kate in and see if she can host for the rest of the evening."  
  
"On it."  
  
"We're going to be okay, guys," Rogers says as he heads out the doors. "We're a family, and we always have each other's backs."  
  
Bucky makes eye contact with Rogers, who smiles thinly at him, and disappears through the doors.

* * *

 Clint runs through the kitchen like a chicken with its head cut off, but with more purpose. He grabs four plates off the counter as they're being placed down with their tickets, then tosses the ticket out as he moves through the door to deliver the food to its awaiting table.

The rest of the night, surprisingly enough, goes smoothly, with only one case of a party of four being displeased with their food. Kate comes in a record ten minutes, whirling through the kitchen, patting each of the Sam and Thor on the back before giving Bucky a solitary nod; pinning up her hair as she whisks through the doors out into the restaurant.

The mood in the kitchen in quieter, with the usual banter erased in favor of simple reminders like “Behind!” or “On your left!” Everyone knows something is wrong, and the only consistent sounds are of food cooking and the women and Clint hurtling through doors to get plates.

The dinner rush ends at eight, and by ten, a rough two and a half hours after Tony's collapse, they finally have the time to look at their phones for any updates. Thor, Sam and Bucky stand in the kitchen hovering around Bucky's phone as he texts Rogers.  
  
Rogers wound up riding in the ambulance with Tony, who was shortly revived after Peggy started CPR, only because Pepper was in a late meeting uptown, but had let Rogers know she would meet them at the hospital.  
  
All this was information Rogers was relaying via text to Bucky, and after a few more moments, Bucky called him.  
  
"Yes?" His voice sounded rough when the call went through.  
  
"Rogers, are you okay?" Bucky asked, shifting away from Sam and Thor, angling towards the refrigerator.  
  
"Shouldn't you be asking me about Tony?"  
  
"You and I both know he's going to get the best medical care money can buy, and you already told me that the reason Tony collapsed was because of an iron deficiency in his system. He's going to be fine, but right now, all I'm worried about is you." Bucky huffs at him.  
  
"You never cease to amaze me," Rogers says softly, voice still scratchy, "I wish I could just see you now, jerk... it would be a lot better to lean on a person than a cold doorframe."  
  
"I know." Bucky agrees, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, then quickly changes the subject: "You’re not coming back here after all this, are you? Because you can just go home – we can handle a night without you."  
  
"No," Rogers says, "I'll be back in half an hour to close. You don’t have to lock up if you’re done by the time I get back, but if not, I'll see you soon. I'm really glad– thanks for checking in with me, Buck."  
  
"You and I both know we’re not going to be done by the time you get back, but okay. You're welcome."  
  
"Yeah." Rogers confirms, and then all Bucky can hear is the dial tone as he hangs up.  
  
"So, what'd Cap say?" Sam inquires.  
  
"He'll be here in about thirty to help close."  
  
"You mentioned to him that we could handle it without him, didn’t you?" Thor calls from the other side of the kitchen, wiping down his station.  
  
"Of course I did," Bucky rolls his eyes, but he knows that Thor is teasing as, "the stupid idiot thinks he needs to mother hen us, which I assured him he didn't have to do, but–"  
  
"–Low and behold, he's coming back whether we like it or not." Nat finishes as Sam jumps.  
  
"Where did you come from?"  
  
"I'm everywhere," Nat responds cryptically, "I'll go tell Ange, Peggy, and Kate.”

Rogers comes back after twenty minutes looking bedraggled and ready for a 12-hour shift in his bed.

“I would say you look like shit,” Peggy says, grabbing a broom from the tiny closet in the corner of the kitchen, “but I think you already know that.”

“Yeah. It just really gets to you, even when you know the person is going to be okay,” Rogers sighs.

Peggy softens, her eyes crinkling with sympathy.

“I know,” she pauses for a beat. “I’m going to finish sweeping, get Angie to mop and then we’re going tip out and leave.”

“Sounds good. Just remember to lock the front up.”

“I know, Mama Hen.” Rogers sighs, and gets back to his work.

* * *

By eleven, the only ones left in the restaurant are Rogers and Bucky. Rogers is doing a final count of the cash in the register before leaving, and Bucky doesn’t know how to leave without him.

“I realized that all night, I haven’t asked you how you’ve been,” Rogers says, sifting through twenties.

“I’m doing okay,” Bucky yawns, settling onto a stool, “but it’s been a long night and I’m ready to get to bed. Honestly, though? It feels weird to leave HC after what happened tonight.”

“I know what you mean,” Rogers agrees. “I feel bad that I left you all here while I was with Tony and Pepper.”

“Hey, you did what you had to do. It’s not like anyone is upset at you, you’re looking out for Tony and even with Pepper there I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave. He’s a good friend. I’m sure he would do the same for you.”

“Yeah, he would. Like I would do for you,” Rogers looks at Bucky and there’s brief eye contact as his cheeks flush, and then Rogers is looking away again, “um, for any of you.”

The moment causes a stillness in Bucky’s heart. Confusion. _He would do that for me?_ he wonders.

“Thanks. All set?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’re out.”


	2. don't forget to hold course

Bucky rolls in for his Tuesday afternoon shift at one-thirty, a breezy, rainy March day that seems to promise pick-ups all afternoon. It’s a special that Rogers set up to drum up business, Tuesday Pick-Ups, where the restaurant is effectively closed for dine-ins but offers pick-ups, and when it gets to the summer, deliveries.

They’re both sitting at the pick-up counter, waiting for Bruce to come in when they see something peculiar.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing.” Rogers deadpans.

“The,” Bucky squints, “two? Two people in the alley next to the Vietnamese place going at it?” He looks at Rogers, who is losing his collective shit, guffawing and turning pink.

“It’s thirty-fucking-degress out!” He smiles at Bucky, who shakes his head. “Don’t you think they could’ve had some patience-”

“Or maybe a brain-cell that isn’t split between the two of them,” Bucky interjects.

“Anyways, or some sense to think, one, maybe doing this in public isn’t the best idea, and two, that in this weather it’s just not worth it?”

And right as he says it, a police car, which had been lazily cruising, passes by, makes it to the end of the block, pauses, then reverses to right in front of Phở Palace. The two people are hastily trying to compose themselves, but it’s too late. Rogers is laughing so hard that he has to lay down on the floor, and Bucky can’t help but grin at him.

The two people are pushed into the police car, and Steve finally starts calming down, fiddling with a strap on his apron to distract himself from the laughter.

“I can't wait for the one day someone gets arrested for public indecency in here.” Rogers says, and with that remark, suddenly becomes Steve.

Bucky scrubs at the counter and hides his smile beneath the brightly colored cloth.

“I don't think you want that to happen, Steve.” Bucky says, and waits for Steve's reaction.

Steve grins and rolls with it. “You might not think I want it to happen, but I'll have you know that I've been waiting since the moment I opened this place to have scandal arise.”

“What if a good critic is here?”

Steve gives him a shit eating grin. “The more the merrier.”

Bucky laughs, and continues cleaning the station.

“So after that, I bet your day can’t get any more interesting than that.” Steve says.

“I don’t think anything could top this day. It’s, um, nice to spend time with you. In the restaurant, I mean. And outside too, but I don’t think we’ve ever done that,” Bucky fumbles.

Steve looks pensive. “I think you’re right, actually. I don’t think we’ve gotten together outside of the restaurant. Why don’t we change that? What’re you doing tonight?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Would you wanna go do something then?”

“Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s this bookstore that sells a mean cup of coffee, so I’ve been told,” Steve suggests. “We could wander around there, if you like.”

Bucky nods, and Bruce arrives to pick up his food. They chat with him for about ten minutes, then decide to close up for the afternoon to go to the bookstore.

Curious Minds Want to Know, according to Steve, is about as hippie as they get when it comes to bookstores. Or maybe it’s simply a regular bookstore and Steve just doesn’t get out.

It’s littered with plants that Bucky doesn’t know the names to, that crawl up and down shelves, highlighted by a mass of fairy lights strung throughout that, frankly, Bucky remarks to Steve, should be illegal.

Steve laughs, and they turn a corner into the fiction section. Steve almost breezes completely through in favor of historical non-fiction until Bucky shouts “ _WUTHERING HEIGHTS!_ ”

“Wuthering Heights?” Steve asks.

“It’s only the best book ever written. And yes, I can feel your argument bubbling beneath the surface but it’s wrong.”

“And why is it wrong?” Steve gives him a mock-stoic face and crosses his arms, smiles, but then reigns it in again. “Convince me of otherwise.”

“Because you are never going to find a book like this kind anywhere else. It is full of the best nineteenth-century drama. Vague incest. Ghosts. Land squabbles. Bitter rivalries. Revenge.” Bucky smiles, and Steve’s façade cracks, and he laughs.

“Okay, okay. And do I get to suggest a book to you?”

“It’s only fair.” Bucky says.

“ _The Warmth of Other Suns_.” Steve says. “Written by Isabel Wilkerson, it chronicles the Great Migration through the biographies of three African Americans who left the South for better lives. It’s a long book, but it’s definitely a worthwhile read.”

“Well if we can find it here I’ll pick it up.”

“Cool. Do you wanna try some of that coffee now?” Steve suggests.

“Hell yeah.”


	3. entrée

Natasha corners him during one of his infrequent smoke breaks behind the restaurant.

“So, Steve.” She prompts, snatching Bucky’s cigarette out from his hands and taking a puff.

“Do you mind?” Bucky asks her, but it's more routine at this point than anything; he's accustomed to her joining him during his breaks, even more so now that he’s trying to quit, and taking a few drags so there's less for Bucky to smoke.

“I don't.” Natasha smiles as the smoke curls around her face, and passes the cig back to him.

“I just,” Bucky starts, taking a deep drag, “I like him. And I'm trying my best to not let myself be scared of liking Steve – or anything beyond that – because I don't know if I can handle that. Especially after the kind of childhood I had, I'm just not good with these kinds of emotions. Connecting with people.”

“Well, not to jinx your luck or anything, but you've done a really good job of settling into HC with everybody, and everyone really likes you. I’m glad that this was a good fit for you.”

Bucky smiles at her, and even though her words warmed him, the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Bucky?” Nat eyes him sympathetically, and he just shrugs back at her.

“I need time. To settle into the idea more, I guess.”

“No one will give you anything else, Bucky; we all want to see you happy. Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

Bucky reaches out, and holds her hand. Natasha threads her fingers through his, and watches quietly as he finishes his cigarette. When Bucky takes the last drag, he untangles his and Natasha’s hands, stubs out the filter and throws it in the garbage bin.

“What will Steve think?” Bucky blurts as Natasha is reaching for the door handle.

“He won’t think anything. He’s patient.”

“He _knows_?” Bucky’s eyes are wide as moons, but Natasha just shakes her head.

“No, but I know he likes you. He’s just patient – waiting for the right time – and he’s shy, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. But I won’t say much more because it’s not for me to say.”

“Okay.” Bucky resigns. “I want him to know, but not just yet.”

“I know.” And Natasha opens the door.

* * *

It's a rainy Wednesday evening, slower than most Wednesdays are, with only three tables sat: regulars Peter and Wade; holding hands across the table and laughing with each other, Bruce, who's sitting alone and working on crosswords, and a family of five that's halfway through their meal.

As such, the kitchen is quiet, with Thor and Sam are taking their break, Nat and Angie hovering over the pick-up counter out in front, leaving Steve and Bucky in the kitchen alone.

Steve breaks the silence first.

“When do you think you’re going to quit smoking?” He asks it in such a way that doesn't sound the least bit patronizing, and it startles Bucky out of his silence.

“Soon, actually. I've been trying to quit for a year, and I suppose I've been semi-successful, because I just smoke a couple out of the pack a day, which is a lot better than half a year ago when I was smoking more.”

“That's good. I’d hate to lose my sous-chef after all this time I've spent grooming him.”

“Grooming me for what?” Bucky laughs as he exhales a plume of smoke, then sputters as he starts coughing, hitting his chest to clear out his lungs.

“To do my evil bidding, of course.” Steve makes a failed approximation of a maniacal face, cross eyed and lips pulled back, which sends Bucky into another bout of coughing-laughter.

“Which would be?”

“You run the kitchen. When I eventually start renovations so we can have a brick oven to make pizza and calzones in.”

“No fucking way.” Bucky looks in disbelief at Steve.

“Yeah, Buck, I'm serious.” Steve says. “I wanna start renovations in the off season, in September and it'll be finished within a couple months, if all goes according to plan. I want to do this. I want you to take over when the time comes. You're an amazing guy, and I trust you, personally and professionally, to be able to handle this.”

Bucky’s overwhelmed with a sudden rush of affection, feels his eyes well up and turns away from Steve. He knows Steve can read him well, and covers his mouth with his hand, leaning on the cool steel of the prep counter. He hears Steve walk over to him.

“Buck?” Steve asks, and places a gentle hand on Bucky’s left shoulder. “Are you okay? Is… was that too much? I can take it all back if you want me too.”

Bucky can feel himself shaking ever so slightly, and shakes Steve's hand off his shoulder.

“I just… I'm not used to good things even after all these years, this job, your people…” Bucky trails off, and Steve pulls him into a hug.

“ _Our_ people, Buck. You're one of us. And I know – maybe I shouldn't assume this and tell me if I'm wrong, but – that finding family is hard for you. And maybe it's hard for you to believe but you have a family, with us, with me, and we’re all willing to wait as long as it takes until you're ready to make that transition. We care, Buck.  _I_ care.”

Bucky just hugs him back tightly.


	4. can we interest you in coffee or dessert?

“I guess it’s time for me to open up to you, a little bit,” Bucky says.

Steve’s over at his apartment, a tiny thing, but it serves his needs well and fits his lack of belongings.

“Only if you’re ready.”

“I am.” Bucky pats the couch and Steve sits next to him. Bucky curls his legs underneath himself and grabs a pillow, placing it in front of his chest, arms wrapped around it.

“So I grew up being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Which I guess is where it all starts. And before I get any further I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I know I have issues, but I don’t want it to be the main focus.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, and rubs his hand over Bucky’s knee, then withdraws it.

“I really wasn’t anywhere for any longer than a year. Either something always fell through with the parents, or I was just too much trouble for them; I was a wily kind of kid with too much energy and nowhere to go. So I acted out a lot, and even in my late teens, I just never really fit in. Any friends I tried to make, didn’t want to know me. Didn’t even try to welcome me in. Not that it was their job, but god, it would’ve helped.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” Steve offers a somber smile.

“It’s okay. But every time I tried to open up to people, it just ended up with me being rejected. So making friends, or even any other kind of relationship, has been hard for me. Working at Howling Commandos is, um, like the first time I’ve found people who want to know me, too.”

Steve’s eyes water, and his hand reaches out for Bucky’s, who removes one arm from around the pillow to grasp it.

“And getting to know you, even though I’ve been kind of cold shouldered-”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“I just, I want you to know I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. So, thank you. For hearing me out, giving me a job."

“Everything.” Steve wipes away an errant tear.

“Yeah,” Bucky says softly.

“Can I just say something?” Steve asks him, a few minutes later. Bucky nods. “I really like you, Buck. And if you're not ready for a relationship, I totally respect that and if you don't feel the same way we can – I can – just pretend this conversation never happened. But I just wanted to put it out there.” Steve’s leg bounces against the couch.

“And if I do feel the same way?” Bucky asks him. “I'm not saying I'm ready, but… I like you a lot. And I know that I’m ready for you to know that. It just took me a while to be okay with that idea.”

Steve unclasps their hands, and moves closer to Bucky’s side of the couch, and Bucky takes the opportunity to move over, closer, and sit in Steve’s warmth. Steve’s side is comforting, just like the rest of him, and Bucky leans into his frame, closes his eyes, and relaxes.

“I just...” Steve starts, but then, “never mind.”

“No, say what you were going to say.”

“I wish that the people in your childhood were better to you.”

“Me too.” Bucky sighs, and squeezes Steve’s hand.

“No, I mean,” Steve sighs in frustration, “that I wish that I could throttle the people in your childhood who brought you up making you believe that family is hard to find and love, unconditional love is never without conditions and I wish that I had been there, that I had your back for all those years.”

“You and me both, Steve,” and as Bucky says it, his voice cracks and he presses closer into Steve’s shoulder, and just breathes in and out, trying to control his breathing.

“I feel like whenever I look back on my childhood, it seems like you were supposed to be there.”

“Maybe I was, but I wasn't. I'm here now.” It's a lot, to say the least, for Bucky. “I used to feel so _alone_ , Steve. Even in the kitchen with you guys, with everyone. I thought I would always feel like there was some disconnect between me and everyone else. There never really was – I just made it up in my head.”

“It's okay,” Steve untangles their fingers and wraps his arm closer around Bucky's shoulders, “You were doing the best you could. You still are.”

* * *

 It's chaotically busy – the weekends always seem to bring that out at HC, but ever since college kids have been returning to their favorite haunts since school has ended, the restaurant has enjoyed an increase in business.

That's not to say it doesn't come with some downfalls, as Natasha is having an off day.

Bucky notices this when she comes in, and there's something just… not right about her posture, normally so loose and relaxed, is rigid, and her hair, usually so slicked back in its high ponytail, is a haphazard bun. But the most obvious clue is the ring of red puffy skin around her eyes, making her appear exhausted.

He goes to ask her when she’s writing down specials, but thinks better of it, and goes back to hashing out details for the next week of specials with Steve. Two hours later, when Bucky is in a cooking zone of his own, Natasha bursts through the door, and Bucky drops everything to go to her.

“Sam, take over for me, I'll be right back.”

“Gotcha, man.” Sam moves to his station and picks right back up where Bucky left off as he guides Peggy outside.

When the door closes behind them, Bucky takes his second good look at Natasha, and sees that she’s crying.

“What's wrong, Natasha?” He asks her.

“My application got rejected.”

“The Culinary Institute rejected you? Of all people? I’m so sorry.” Bucky wraps an arm around her and she huddles closer to him.

“I really thought I was going to make it in, but then I got the letter in the mail this afternoon. And I know that there are other places that I can go, but this was my dream.” Natasha cries into his shoulder.

“I know. It sucks.”

“It really fuckin’ does.” Natasha takes a shuddering breath, then straightens up. “But I’m going to keep applying places. I won’t let it get me down.”

“You know it’s okay to be sad about it now, though.”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to be.”

“I understand.” He rubs her back.

“Can you just stand with me, for a couple minutes, before we go back inside?”

“Of course.”


	5. dessert

June brings success and many changes. The changing of the seasons marks a new chapter for the crew. Natasha gets into the International Culinary Center, and takes off of work to begin summer courses at the end of June. And though it’s early, Steve begins hammering down concrete plans from renovations in the fall.

But there is still her last day, _for now_ , as most of the staff keep telling her. However, even that gets interrupted.

“Guys, you head out before the hailstorm gets worse – let’s face it, no one else is coming in tonight. Go home and take the day tomorrow, too. I’ll call Kate to let her know; Bucky and I will finish closing.” Steve says, sighing heavily as he looks out of the window.

“As long as you make sure that you're getting out before the storm gets any worse, too.” Natasha reminds them, and squeezes both Steve and Bucky on the arm before following the rest of the group out.

They're in the kitchen, doing the last of the cleaning, wiping down counters, when suddenly:

“Have I ever told you that I’m ass over teakettle for you?” Steve tells him. They’ve been taking it glacially slow, but the feelings there are clear.

“No,” Bucky’s brows crinkle, but he smiles, “but I think you might have mentioned it once or twice.” He stretches over the counter, and Steve leans over, and they kiss. Their first kiss.

Bucky’s kissed other people before, because when people don’t want to know you for the long term, they at least want to get to know a part of you in the short term. But this kiss, it’s like nothing else. It sends shivers up his body, like little pulses of electricity from his toes to his fingertips. Steve’s lips are soft, supple and smell faintly of coconut.

Without breaking it, Bucky hoists himself himself over the counter so he's sitting on it, and Steve pulls him in closer, settling in the vee of his legs. He frames Bucky’s face with his hands, and Bucky hums contentedly.

When they break apart a moment later, Steve’s cheeks are flushed, and Bucky has no idea what he’s supposed to say but he still says:

“That's a good look on you, punk,” grinning ear to ear. Steve snorts, and smoothes out a stray hair on Bucky’s face.

“You know you're family, right? To me?” Steve says, eyes bright and hopeful. Bucky is taken aback for a moment, but all that he and Steve have shared, and been through, it gives him a feeling of peace, and it makes his heart settle in just the right place.

“Don't break out the marriage proposal just yet, Rogers.” Bucky thumps Steve gently on the chest. “Having family has never, ever, really, been my strong suit. I, uh, don't know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. Just know that I love you. You can say it or not, but it's important to me that you know that you can rely on me – personally and professionally.” Steve pulls out the old line, but hey, Bucky knows it to be tried and true, as he kisses Bucky on the corner of his mouth, and Bucky folds their hands together.

“I might not be able to tell you I love you – yet, just give me time–”

“All the time you need,” Steve promises.

“–but I can tell you that I adore you. That I'm so thankful you consider me family. It means more than you'll ever know.” With that, Steve pulls Bucky into a warm hug, which Bucky reruns with enthusiasm.

Bucky feels safe and loved, with warmth curling in his stomach that he hopes will stick around.


	6. check, please

It’s the beginning of the Thursday shift when an idea pops into Bucky’s head.

“Steve?” He asks over prep, as they wait for Thor and Sam to arrive.

“Yeah, Buck?” He doesn’t look up from his station, but Bucky knows Steve well enough by now to know from his change of stance that he’s acutely attuned to whatever Bucky has to say.

“I was thinkin’ of hosting a barbecue at my apartment on the rooftop, maybe next Saturday. And, uh, we could cook for everyone? Ribs, burgers, hot dogs… thoughts?” Bucky watches as Steve straightens up and turns towards him.

“Sounds like a good plan. I’d love to help out.” Steve wiggles his eyebrows at Bucky, and the gesture makes him snort.

“You’re a dork.” Bucky says.

“You know this, jerk,” Steve reminds him.

“Punk.” Bucky turns away from his station, wipes his hands on a towel which he wraps around his neck, and walks up behind Steve, placing his hands on his waist. Steve turns around in his arms, a gleam in his eye.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That there is no such thing as a sexy quickie in the closet.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head, and kisses Bucky gently. “I was thinking that we could do a couple different marinades for the burgers and a dry rub for ribs… I can’t believe you thought I was trying to get you to have a quickie with me.”

“Har har, very funny, Steve.” Bucky rolls his eyes, and then kisses Steve again.

“But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?” Steve mock-pouts, and laughs when Bucky thwaps him on the arm with his towel.

“Yes, it’s a good idea,” Bucky relents, “and so is the quickie, but Sam and Thor will be here at any moment, and I don’t think either of us want to be publicly indecent.”

“Speak for yourself.” Steve laughs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth before turning around again. “Let me finish this portion of prep on the sauces, and you can figure out the rest of the details and tell the crew when everyone gets in.”

Bucky smiles slyly, and tweaks Steve’s ass in response, who yelps in an undignified manner, just as Sam and Thor walk in.

Bucky waits for everyone for everyone to settle around the pick-up counter, which will soon become the area where the brick oven is.

“I suppose you’re all wondering why you’re here,” Bucky begins.

“Because it’s our shift?” Natasha sasses him. She’s back for a few weeks before her fall semester starts, and has tried taking on some roles in the kitchen, to Steve’s absolute and utter delight.

“Ye– no, Natasha, _please_.” She laughs, and Bucky continues. “As I was saying, I’m sure you’re all curious as to why _I_ called everyone to the front, and that’s because I wanted to invite you all to a barbecue at my house next Saturday. It’s BYOB, and Steve and I will be providing the food. All you guys’ll have to do is show up – with booze, of course. Starts at five p.m.”

Immediately, Natasha, Clint, Sam and Thor say yes.

“I have a stash of the _finest_ liquor in my house. I will bring it.” Thor tells the group.

“Well, count me in, then.” Tony says, after a moment of supposed thought. “Can I bring Pep?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky tells him.

“I’ll extend the invitation to Kate.” Clint adds, and Bucky nods in assent.

“Let me just check mine and Angie’s calendar.” Peggy mentions, to which Angie tells her, “We’re free and you know it. Bucky, we’re coming and we’re bring cornbread.”

“Excellent.”

* * *

The barbeque is a wild success. Thor and Tony start a drinking contest and it isn’t long before Natasha not only joins in, but outdrinks and outlasts them, as they take a snooze in some lawn chairs provided by Bucky’s landlord, while Natasha sways lazily around to the music playing through the speakers.

Angie and Peggy’s cornbread is completely devoured, and everyone heads home with some of the leftovers that remained. The evening is cool and breezy, with stars just beginning to shine in the sky. Most of their friends helped to clean up, so all that’s left for Steve and Bucky is to bring the trash and recycling down.

As they finish tossing the bags in the proper receptacles, Bucky tugs on Steve’s tee-shirt as they begin walking back up to Bucky’s third floor apartment.

“You're my family,” Bucky kisses Steve on the corner of his mouth, “and I want you to have this.”

He digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black box, and hands it over to Steve.

“Can I open it?”

“I just gave it to you, didn't I?” Bucky snarks, trying to offset his jittery nerves.

Steve thumbs the box open, and Bucky watches as his brows knit together in a confused yet heartwarming look. It almost looks like constipation.

“What are they?” Now Steve almost looks nervous.

“Promise rings.” Bucky says it fast, and Steve looks wildly at him. “I'm not good with emotions or family… or love. But you make me feel like I could be good at all of those. You make me believe in permanence. In building a future,” Bucky smiles wide at this, “personally and professionally.”

Steve’s smile is blinding as he laughs.

“And I want to make this promise to you: I will always have your back, and love you as best I can.”

“Love, eh?” Steve teases, and it shows just how much Bucky has grown and found a place by Steve’s side that he can roll his eyes as he responds.

“Yeah, punk.” Bucky’s eyes are full of joy. “You helped me find a family, and love, and happiness… but the best of all of that is you found me a home, too.”

Steve kisses him then, pressing him into the counter of his kitchen, while the barbecue continues on in the backyard. Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, and slides the ring on his finger, and then Steve puts the other one on Bucky’s finger. The gold of Steve’s versus the silver of Bucky’s complement each other well.

“Move in with me.” Steve says, half breathless and cheeks flushed, and, well, how could Bucky say no to that?

“Yes. A thousand times yes, if it means coming home to you.”

Steve nods vigorously, and kisses Bucky’s cheek, jawline, and lips before they reach Bucky’s door. He rifles though his keys, feeling the thrills of excitement run through him.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, and pulls them into his soon-to be vacated apartment.

* * *

Thanksgiving is suddenly upon them, and the Howling Commandos is finally finished being renovated, closed for a family event.

They have decided to spend Thanksgiving with one another, to celebrate each other and the new paths they have foraged for themselves.

Bucky looks around at the table, of all these people who in just over a year and a half, have become so integral and precious to him. He’s overwhelmed for a moment, almost nervous to make his toast, but then he looks down at Steve, and is reminded of how far he’s come. So he stands.

“Before we all eat,” Bucky says, after everyone had been seated with a drink and some food, “I'd like to propose a toast. To all of you, for being not only my coworkers but to being my friends and family. To giving me time to ease into relationships with you. For not pushing me into anything I wasn't ready for. You all mean the world to me and I'm so grateful that I not only get to spend my days doing the job I love, but that I get to do it with the people that I love. Thank you for being my people. To family.”

“To family.” Everyone echoes as they raise their glasses and clink them with the nearest person. Steve clinks his glass to Bucky’s.

“To our future,” he says quietly, “to you, to me, to love, to all the good things. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bucky says, and clinks his glass. “To you: my family and my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> An almost-degree in journalism doesn’t make this without mistakes, so if you find any, please lmk and I’ll hop on it immediately.
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow me on tumblr here!](http://hurricanekid.tumblr.com)


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